


Quintessons Have a Lot of Mouths

by Jellyfiggles



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Biology, Captivity, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gangbang, Interrogation, M/M, Out of Character, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Rough Oral Sex, Tentacles, Transformers Kink Meme, Unrealistic Rape for Kink Purposes, old!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfiggles/pseuds/Jellyfiggles
Summary: Written in 2010 for a TFAnonKink prompt.Set in the third series of G1, Rodimus Prime and Co have caught a Quintesson and things go... very awry during an interrogation.





	Quintessons Have a Lot of Mouths

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: https://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/491.html?thread=1263595#t1263595
> 
> (Warning, this fic was written in 2010 and is un-beta-ed and incredibly out of character, read at your own risk.)

The Quintesson spat, hissed and cursed as it hovered in the corner of it's cell, having been several hours prior roughly mech-handled into the Autobot brig. All it's faces displaying pure, unadulterated rage.

Springer watched the creature from where he was sitting, skimming over a simple datapad, a recent field report from one of their more difficult skirmishes with the Decepticons. He studied the Quintesson. The thing was truly hideous, with it's egg-shaped metal chassis and it's weird rubbery-looking tentacles. Not to mention the foul language escaping it's lips as it switched from one persona to another, until he had been sworn at by all four of it's faces, was hardly elevating his opinion of it.

With a chuckle, he turned his body, until his back almost faced the Quintesson completely. As he feigned complete obliviousness, the triple-changer found himself grinning inwardly as the alien behind him began to shriek, furious at being ignored.

Abruptly, the brig entrance slid aside to allow Rodimus Prime, Kup and Grimlock through. “Has it said anything?” Rodimus went straight to the point, seeing no point in beating around the bush. The young prime was still rather surprised that the Quintesson had been captured, by Grimlock no less, as the tell-tale teeth marks around the creature's chassis clearly showed. 

Springer dropped the 'pad and smirked at his friend. “Sure, every curse under Unicron, and then some. Nothing 'interesting'.” Mimicking a human stretch, the green mech stood. A sudden outburst from their captive grabbed their attention.

“You're all going to regret this, we'll destroy you, fools, we are the superior race, Cybertron is rightly ours!” 

Kup laughed, “an' that's why you're the one locked in a cell an' were out here, is it, slagger?” This earned him a whole load of expletives, several even he, as the veteran of the group, had never heard of.

Grimlock snarled, “me Grimlock no like you, me think you stupid. And ugly.” The metal tyrannosaurus gave an exaggerated scoff and turned his snout up at the creature. 

The other three mechs laughed, Rodimus straightening and addressing the others. “I'm going to try and talk with it, I doubt it will show me even that courtesy, but it's worth a shot. And besides, that's what Optimus Prime would have done.”

Kup shook his head “you're wasting your time Rodimus, that thing won't talk any time soon, thing's probably demented. You'd be better off sending me.”

The young prime waved a hand in negation of the gruff offer. “Kup, it's my duty as Prime and no doubt it would only end in a match of insults, not particularly productive.” Rodimus chuckled and grabbed one of the light-metal stools from the wall, setting it down in front of the captive's cell. “You three can stay, just be quiet and bear in mind, you do have duties to attend to, this is not offtime.”

Springer, Kup and Grimlock sat on the remaining stools, the light green mech picking up the datapad to discuss with his companions. The conversation wasn't important, just a simple discussion about what Galvatron was looking for, from data on the recent battles and skirmishes.

Meanwhile, Rodimus had settled down in front of the Quintesson, face and body posture neutral. “Why were the Quintessons present during today's battle?”

The Quintesson turned from him, crossing it's tentacles.

Rodimus, while not as patient as the previous Primes, felt his lips curl as he simply sat, waiting. There was no point getting aggravated. 

After a while, the Quintesson either became bored with the silence or being stared at silently began to unnerve it (the Prime couldn't decide which, the creature was hard to read) and it suddenly whirled round. “I will tell you nothing Autobot, you're wasting your time, like the outdated model told you!”

There was a quiet growl from across the room and Rodimus chuckled. “Is that so? Well, I'm afraid that does very little in way of me considering your freedom, I guess we'll have to continue our conversation at a later date...” As he moved to stand, the quintesson moved forwards.

“You think you're so clever, Autobots, we came before you and will be here long after you all rot. I laugh at your pitiful attempts to extract information!” The Quintesson spat at Rodimus hitting him dead on with slime, half organic saliva all over the Prime's face plates. 

This garnered two immediate reactions. One, a curse from the young leader, as he stumbled back, swiping at his face with his left servo. Two, the angry attentions of the others, Kup, Springer and Grimlock, leaping at the cell. Kup typed in the access codes and had the pinned the Quintesson down. The creature was not particularly large, coming just above their waste height. This put it in a bad position and it used it tentacles to hit at the dark green mech, screeching.

Kup wasn't fazed in the slightest. He held the Quintesson with hardly any effort. “You're gonna regret that little stunt, slagger.” He looked up at his leader, “Permission to punish 'im, sir?”

Rodimus, having now wiped most of the saliva off, looked down at the older mech, “Permission not granted, this is not a torture session, we're simply trying to get information.”

From just beyond the cell a voice suddenly spoke up,“me Grimlock think him alien thing need calms-down stuff.” The Dinobot hovered over the cell's bars, regarding the spitting, wriggling Quintesson with a disturbingly fixated stare.

Kup looked over, “'calms-down stuff'? What on Cybertron are you on about Grimlock?” The older 'bot tightened his grip on the Quint as it's tentacles squeezed at him painfully.

Grimlock raised one of his short arms up to his snout, considering. “When me Grimlock and him Slag fight back on Earth, him Wheeljack and sometimes him Ratchet gave me Grimlock and him Snarl calms-down stuff. They touch all over, feel real good, then there big 'splosion inside.” The tyrannosaurus patted his chest and nodded, satisfied that he had explained everything.

The other mechs, and even the Quintesson, were rather lost for words, exchanging a few shocked and perplexed looks with one another. Springer was the first to respond, he coughed loudly, “Grimlock... heh... I don't think that's really appropriate...”

Rodimus patted his shoulder and shushed him. “That sounds like a good idea Grimlock, will you show us how they did it to you, but on the Quintesson?” 

The Dinobot leader nodded and transformed into his mech form, trotting forwards almost eagerly.

“What? NO! NO, YOU CAN'T DO THIS, DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME, NOOOO!” The Quintesson shrieked and bit at Kup, struggling wildly in the dark green mech's hold. He was unable to free himself however and could only curse as Grimlock's large hands began to stroke over his trapped frame.

Springer looked over at his scarlet friend and leader, an incredulous look plastered on his face plate. “Rodimus, you can't be serious!” True, the Quint was an enemy and a foul-mouthed fragger of an enemy at that, but surely the Prime wouldn't actually allow the screw-loose Dino to molest it!

Kup moved out of the larger mech's way, keeping an eye on Grimlock's movements whilst simultaneously holding the alien down. The old 'bot wasn't stupid, could see the calculating look on his superior's face. The Prime obviously had a plan and Primus forbid that he should get in the way.

Grimlock slid his palms down the smooth metal of the alien's chassis. Nearing the bottom, he felt small holes and without a second thought, the large mech poked a fingertip into the nearest hole. “Hmm... it warm...” the tyrannosaurus rumbled, pushing in deeper, the opening was too narrow to get very far.

The Quintesson writhed, giving a groan as one of his more sensitive spots was touched. He hadn't been touched in... in... well over a millennia. The Quint couldn't remember it being so intense, so pleasurable. Not that the Quintesson race focused on the activity's more pleasurable uses, they mated to create young. Anything more was considered a waste of time and energy, far below superior beings such as themselves. And- oh! That felt so good! He mewled as more fingers joined those already touching his frame, these thinner and more nimble, wriggling into his sensitive body.

Kup chuckled lightly as his fingertips brushed over... what felt like circuitry, among other, unidentifiable things. The noises the Quints made when in pleasure were arousing, but strange and alien. There was no underlining metallic tinge to the vocals and odd hiccups and pants that they, with no organic material within their frames, were unable to produce. Leaning forwards, keeping his free arm and legs restraining the creature, the older mech used his glossa to trace over the sensitive holes.

“O-oh-AH! R-release me you fools! Stop this perversion!” And it seemed the alien was resisting once more...

A small smirk playing about his lip-plates, Rodimus leaned forwards. “You know as well as I do Quintesson, we will stop when you have answered our questions.” He folded his arms and nodded to Kup, encouraging him to continue.

The Quint was shaking, tentacles trembling and slapping against the cell floor. With a small 'click' it's face changed to a different individual, the voice deepening. “Filthy-Ah! Depraved creatures! I'll-uhh... I'll tell you NOTHING!” 

Quite suddenly, startling more than just the Quintesson, Springer leant forwards. His fingers stroked along the metallic curves of the alien's head before he brushed a thumb over the stuttering Quint's bottom lip component. The Quintesson quivered and with a smile the large green mech kissed him. 

The mouth was... warm. There was saliva, teeth, the tangy taste of aluminium and copper. And when he moved his glossa, tracing every inch of the inside, the creature gave little squeals and strained forwards, it's long tongue twisting around his desperately.

Grimlock growled and stuffed a digit into one of the Quintesson's free mouths. There was a moan and a tongue licked over his finger, mouth suckling hungrily. “Me Grimlock see you Quintesson like thingies in your mouth.” The smaller creature's only response was to whimper, sucking harder on the metal.

Rodimus Prime smirked. He nudged all three mechs away from the writhing Quintesson. At the sudden disappearance of the pleasurable stimulation it gave a few confused clicks, looking around. “W-wha- ?”

The Prime looked smugly down at the panting captive. “You haven't answered my questions Quintesson, naughty aliens don't get anything with nothing in return.”

The Quint glared, optics sparking furiously. “Y-you can't just leave me hanging like this!” The tentacles waggled in frustration.

The Autobot leader waggled a finger disapprovingly. “Ah-ah-ah, you want something from us, you have to give us something in return first. Otherwise we'll just leave you here... alone.” He chuckled as the creature gave an affronted shriek. 

The Quintesson weighed his options. On one tentacle, he could withhold all information and remain here in this cell forever (his brothers would not retrieve him) and slowly overheat from the strain on his systems from no release. On the other tentacle, he could give some vague references to the truth, get some release and possibly escape. It was not hard to choose the more preferable of these options.

“W-we were at the battle, yes. We were there to... ah... stop you from entering the caves.” That was as close to the truth as he dared. Certainly, there had been something the Quints desired within the asteroid on which the mechs had been battling, but as far as he knew (which was little in comparison to his older brethren, he was of a much younger generation) there were no 'caves' or even passageways to reach the substance.

Rodimus' optics narrowed, “Why?”

The Quintesson flinched, trying desperately to think of something that would be as far from the truth as possible. “To... ah... to keep you from the... from the sacred... uh... tomb!” 

The mechs exchanged confused glances. Kup looked back at the Quint. “What 'tomb'?”

“The sacred tomb of the original Quintesson leaders!” The lie was flowing more smoothly now. Quintessons were good at thinking on their... well they did not possess feet but certainly they knew how to weave lies well. “Enemies entering the tomb would be catastrophic, we would have you executed of course. Desecrating the resting place of our forefathers with your FILTH!” The Quintesson mocked a vomiting gesture, amused at it's own acting skills.

Rodimus raised an optic-ridge, “So that's it? You were stopping us from getting inside the asteroid because your past leaders are buried inside it?” The Prime did not sound very convinced.

The Quint nodded eagerly. “Exactly that Autobot, nothing more than that.... At least on this occasion.” The last remark was muttered darkly, the creature's tongue gliding over the lower lip components of it's current face. Oh, the heat was becoming unbearable, the Quint's body begging for release. “Please, I require...” the Quintesson reached toward the Prime hungrily.

Rodimus snorted lightly, “I don't believe that you've told me the whole truth Quintesson, but I'll allow you some release, as long as you keep it mutual.”

The Quintesson nodded, already panting. It reached towards the Prime once more and gently stroked over the red and orange mech's frame with it's tentacles, wiggling into seams and brushing over various nodes and sensors. Rodimus smiled and latched onto the tentacles, dragging the startled creature forwards, until it was pressed against his much larger frame. 

The face changed suddenly, a different face's mouth opening to ask what he was doing and he took his chance. He dipped his helm, claiming that trembling mouth and swallowing the startled noise that his actions drew forth. 

The Quint groaned, one tentacle hooking around the back of the Prime's helm, pulling his mouth hard against it's own, their glossas intertwining. 

Quintesson mouths were highly sensitive and only those who were close would usually touch one another on the mouth, kissing was a taboo subject in Quint society. They had particular rituals when pairs would mate, tentacles were used to stimulate the holes along the bottom of their chassis which would then trigger the aroused Quint to release eggs into a small chamber within their bodies. Tentacles were then inserted into that Quint's mouths and moved in and out until they spurted their reproductive fluid. This fluid would flow down into the egg chamber near the Quint's core and fertilize the eggs. These eggs would then be removed within the next few cycles.

Of course more often now the Quintesson collected both eggs and fluid and grew the young artificially. A far less messy procedure, and more likely to produce a healthy batch of young without complication.

The Quintesson moaned as hands attacked his frame, sliding over seams and prodding into holes. Kup, Springer and Grimlock shifted closer to the Prime and the Quint, the former two sharing a smirk, their interface plating sliding open.

At the soft snick of opening panels hit his audios, Rodimus broke the kiss with one final lick to the smaller being's lower lip components. “Mutual satisfaction...” he flicked a thumb over the Quint's mouth, causing it to whimper and suckle at it, “you're mouths are so sensitive... I think we could ALL enjoy filling those up...” 

With that he shifted The Quintesson to a more vertical position. “I'm going to put my spike in your mouth Quintesson and you aren't going to bite, are you?” He growled down at the creature who gulped and shook it's heads. Grinning, he pulled the being towards him, holding it's mouth open with his thumb. The Prime's interfacing panel slid open and his pike sprung forth, a bubble of transfluid leaking from the tip. Slowly, he drew forwards and pushed his spike into that soft, wet orifice.

The Quint moaned, glossa flicking against the thick spike. Following suit, the other three mechs slid their own spikes into the remaining three mouths. The Quintesson gave a muffled choked noise, followed quickly by a few whimpers, it's tentacles curling round the mechs' legs.

It took a few awkward tries but they eventually managed to time their thrusts into the Quint's mouths at a roughly similar rhythm, spikes sliding in and out, hitting the sensitive nodes within the orifices. The Quintesson moaned in four different directions, glossas caressing and throats constricting.

Rodimus groaned low in his throat, holding the Quint's helm as he pounded rather roughly into it's mouth, burying himself deep each time. It was so wet, so hot and those little noises of pleasure the creature kept making... he wasn't going to last much longer. But by the sounds of things, he wasn't the only one....

Springer flicked a fingertip over one of the metal spikes jutting from the Quint's face. This one's glossa was frantic, thin fangs grazing over the base of his spike, igniting sensors and making him buck upwards. A curious tentacle squeezed at his thigh plating, trailing upwards to wrap around the base of his spike, jacking him off sporadically. He grabbed the small creature's chin and plunged in harder, hitting the back of the Quint's throat. In response it wailed around his spike and squirmed, lips firmly pressed against his spike housing.

Kup gripped the back of the Quint's head, shoving his spike in and out at a fast tempo, groaning as the tip hit the back of the Quintesson's throat, causing it to gargle and gag repeatedly. The silky roof of the mouth slid over his spike deliciously. 

Grimlock growled, pulling out of the creature's mouth, watching as the Quintesson mewled hungrily, it's glossa shooting out to swirl all over the thick head of his spike. The Dinobot shoved his spike back in and saw flashes before his optics. His spike spurted transfluid into the creature's waiting mouth and down it's throat. He moaned hoarsely, looking down to see fluid seep out from the creature's lips, hearing it's happy little whines as it suckled on his spike.

Rodimus cried out, jerking as he overloaded, spilling hot fluid down the Quint's throat. The Prime panted, shaking fingers gripping onto the Quintesson's helm, feeling the small creature shaking slightly. Next to him, he saw Springer suddenly tense, before his friend slumped, obviously having overloaded as well. 

Kup groaned and slowly pulled out of the Quint's mouth and jerked a hard fist over his well-worn spike. He looked down at the confused Quintesson's face and spurted transfluid all over it's face. As it gasped and the thick fluid dripped off the smooth metal, the older mech grinned, reaching forwards to pat the creature's helm. 

With a jerk and a sudden cry, the Quintesson lurched forwards, it's optics shining pure white for a moment. Liquid spurted from the ends of the Quint's tentacles, pooling on the floor in thick puddles. Rodimus jumped forwards to catch it before it fell. Sparks flew across it's chassis and it whimpered, clinging to Rodimus tiredly. 

As the mechs all recovered themselves and Grimlock cuddled the Quintesson, who was nestled against the Dino-bot's wide chassis, the Prime met his followers' gazes. “You know, I think we should keep it.”

The Quintesson gave a tired mewl and raised a tentacle, waving it weakly. “I second that notion Autofool.”

The gathered Autobots laughed.


End file.
